The Force is with me, Ben mumbled, and I am one with the Force. He breathed in and out slowly, consciously, keeping track of his breath. He inhaled—The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force—and exhaled the mantra with the same rhythm. He'd killed a First Order spy earlier that night, and was now meditating before bed. What concerned Ben Solo was not the taking of human life. He considered it justifiable defense, not murder: spies get executed when discovered, that's just the way of things. Davis, an ineffective spy, had infiltrated the Resistance headquarters and, in that moment, Ben regarded the killing as the defense of his parents and sister. It was that fact that was concerning him right now. Why was he feeling protective of them? Did he love them…still? Was it love? Compassion, protectiveness, tenderness?

He continued to breathe deeply. The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force. Had Snoke chosen Davis so that Ben might kill him and ingratiate himself better with the Resistance? If that was the plan, it had worked. Partially, anyway. Now the rebels thought he was dedicated to their cause but slightly insane. No matter; nobody was about to suggest to General Organa that her son might be out of his mind.

Ben was kneeling on the floor of his quarters, but his left knee was bothering him. He shifted slightly. He should have been able to hold the pose for hours; perhaps he was getting soft. Or old. He exhaled in frustration. Screaming and wrecking things with a lightsaber would have been more satisfying than meditation. But Master Skywalker—Ben couldn't think of him as Uncle Luke anymore, not since the Jedi Temple went up in flames and his childish trust along with it—the master wanted him to calm his thoughts and center his mind.

He was racked with uncertainty. Racked, Ben thought, like Snoke had done to him when he'd first joined the Order: he had never experienced such pain as Snoke had inflicted on his young body. Stretched out on a rack, or suspended midair, with unsubstantial fire shooting through his chest. The sensation of burning flesh was supposed to make Kylo Ren better able to sympathize with his grandfather Darth Vader. Pain, Snoke said, was the best teacher.

The Supreme Leader had sent him to D'Qar, to the Resistance, to have a man on the inside. As a spy, Ben mused. How am I different than the man I killed tonight? He stopped his mantra for a moment, came out of his kneel and sat cross-legged instead as he pondered. Well, he could obey Snoke, yet still maintain his honor. He decided suddenly that he wouldn't betray his family. Somehow, he would have to get them away from this base when the First Order attacked. Then he could have everything he desired: an end to the Resistance movement, a united government ruling the galaxy in peace, with Snoke as the Supreme Leader…or, if Ben were to be truly honest with himself, with him as the Supreme Leader and his family at his side. Breha in particular would be a great asset as a Second. His apprentice, perhaps.

Spies deserve to be executed. The thought nagged at him. He had told Poe that his mother would have done away with Davis just as he had, although Ben wasn't sure he really believed that. What would his mother do to him if she knew his mission? Did she love him more than she cared about her precious Rebels? He could try to make her understand his goals…if only he understood them better himself. He badly needed clarity.

He was racked with uncertainty.

"Well, that was something different," Poe Dameron said to the ceiling. His breath was ragged. He tried to get it under control.

"Different good or different bad?" Breha rolled off of him and stood up in one graceful movement. She sauntered over to the sink. "Would you like some water?"

Poe answered the easier question first. "Sure, thanks." He propped himself up on an elbow to ogle her. "Different good, I think." Gods, she looked beautiful to him—her rosy skin, now damp with sweat; delicate vertebrae like a string of pearls down her back; lean muscles rippling in her legs and back; the bemused expression on her face as she turned to look at him.

"Come back here," he whispered gently.

She smiled at that, crinkling her nose in the way he loved, and returned to bed with a glass of water for him. She lay down on her side, parallel to him. "How was it different?"

He stared into her green-flecked eyes until she blushed. "I don't know," he murmured. "You've never been so…passionate."

She shrugged lightly, averting her gaze. "Maybe I'm just getting braver with you."

"Yeah, maybe that's it." Poe thought for a moment. "No, that's not it. You're more aggressive. Angry."

"I'm not at all angry with you," she said mildly. "I thought you wanted—thought you might like me to be more assertive." Rey swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. This wasn't a conversation she really wanted to be having. If she seemed angry, it was directed at her wayward brother. Poe wanted her to get along with Ben, so she had tried to keep her cool around him, even though it pained her. If that frustration was translating into aggression in bed, well, surely that wasn't such a bad thing.

"Oh, yeah, assertive is good," Poe reassured her while brushing some errant strands of hair away from her face. "Assertive is great. I love that side of you. It's just that," he paused, in order to frame his next thought tactfully, "it seems, seemed, just tonight, that you were thinking of something besides me."

Rey took the half-empty glass out of his hand, set it on the floor behind her, then placed her hands on his shoulders. She pressed him gently backwards so that he was lying flat on the bed, and nestled her face on his chest. She found his heartbeat comforting. It was slowing down now, like his breathing. Poe's skin was pleasantly warm, glowing softly, just like his presence in the Force. His arms, wrapped snugly around her, made her feel safer than she'd ever been on Jakku. She ran a hand idly from his flat stomach up to his face, until her fingers finally settled in his ever-tangled hair. She concentrated on her breathing and his steady heart.

After a minute of companionable silence, she spoke again. "I'm always thinking of you."

"I know you're angry at him," he said into her hair. "It's okay if you wanna…take that out on me."

Rey tilted her face up to kiss his jaw. "Master Luke encourages me to channel my negative thoughts into a more positive sort of energy."

"Well, you are positively energetic." He looked at her upturned face and winked at her. She giggled. "You relaxed now?"

"Oh, yeah," she smiled broadly. At no moment in her life had she ever felt as content and complete as when she was with her Poe. Maybe connecting with the Force on Ahch-To ranked second. A distant second.

"Your energy is feeling positive?"

She laughed again. "Quite."

"Want a backrub?"

"No, I'm good."

"Yes, you are good." One arm was still wrapped protectively around her, hand resting against her neck, but Poe's other hand had started to wander around the curves of her body. "Wanna go to sleep?" he asked. He didn't sound too tired.

She thought for a moment, then shifted forward to cover his body completely with hers. "Not yet."

There was a knock on the door. Breha's eyes opened. After a short pause, another knock, more insistently. And another.

"What is, are, under attack?" Poe mumbled. He was spooned behind her, his breath warm in her ear.

"Someone's at your door," she replied. She looked over her shoulder at him. He looked dead to the world. "Are you awake?"

"No."

"Right." Reluctantly, Rey disentangled herself from him, picked his beige shirt off the floor, and slipped it on. Short, but it covered the important bits. She cracked the door open as a fourth knock came.

Luke Skywalker raised his eyebrows at her. "It's about time," he chided.

"Um, good morning, Uncle Luke. How are you?"

"Not as well as you." Cheeky as usual. "Why don't you get dressed and join Ben and me for some morning exercises?"

"I'm not dressed," she stammered. She heard a snort from behind the door. Ben, presumably. "Hullo, brother."

"Had enough exercise for one morning, Breha, or are you up for some more sport?"

She fought the urge to smack him, and settled for an exasperated sigh. "Give me five minutes."

"Join us outside of the flight hanger," Luke smiled. "Whenever you're ready."

At the Jedi academy, Luke had had his students run through the same physical drill three times daily. About fifteen minutes long, it was a repeating series of flowing gestures, a moving meditation that simultaneously stretched the body and relaxed the mind. In the first half of the practice, the Jedi kept their arms up and still, while in the second half they held a staff like a lightsaber, slicing the air wordlessly. Luke had taught the drill to Breha on Ahch-To, and although Ben hadn't done it in years, his muscle memory kicked in easily. And so with Luke leading, the three of them spent fifteen minutes silently practicing their moving meditation, flowing effortlessly from one position to the next, in harmony with each other and themselves. The sounds and smells of the flight hanger, the tangle of emotions emanating from the Resistance members nearby, and the curious glances from pilots and ground crew all faded into the background.

It was, Ben thought to himself, a quarter hour of unhurried, uncluttered serenity. He couldn't remember why or when he'd ever stopped doing the daily ritual, but he was now content to stand behind his uncle and follow Luke's movements. He breathed deeply, in time with his sister and uncle, thinking of nothing.

And he found himself at peace.